


Oh My God. Oh My God That's Disgusting.

by kenophilic



Category: Welcome to Hell - All Media Types
Genre: Blood, Dicks, Gore, Jonathan sticks it in the spooky hole, M/M, Oh My God, Spooky Hole, Spooky Hole Sex, okay for starters this is absolutely disgusting, that's literally all there is to this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-17
Updated: 2015-03-17
Packaged: 2018-03-18 07:12:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3560810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kenophilic/pseuds/kenophilic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Wanna stick something in it?"</p><p>"...Kinda?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oh My God. Oh My God That's Disgusting.

**Author's Note:**

> sorry mom

"Wanna stick something in it?"

"...Kinda?"

  
  


-

  
  


Sock had been thoroughly serious about his offer. The idea of Jonathan probing around in his insides was honestly very appealing.

His initial thought of how that might feel had been quite similar to his first experience with foreign objects touching his insides. Cold, metallic, inflexible and unforgiving. But then, upon pondering it a bit more, he'd wondered how the teenager's fingers would feel. A bit more of a logical choice, and quite a bit warmer, he assumed. He'd be able to curl his fingers inside of him, pull against his flesh and prod at his organs, perhaps even push his hand in a bit more to get a good hold of his liver and give it a nice squeeze. Of course, now that Sock thought about it, he doubted that a guy like Jonathan would appreciate such an opportunity.

However, as it turned out, Jonathan did, as a matter of fact, very much want to stick something in that spooky hole of Sock's.

So here he was, kneeling over Sock's chest as the demon lay in his bed, shirt pulled up to his neck and trembling with his eyes full of anxious excitement.

  
  


-

  
  


"So, how about that spooky hole?" Sock had asked that morning, grinning ear to ear and peeking halfway through the bathroom mirror to face the boy.

"What about it?" Jonathan asked through a mouthful of mint, frowning as much as he could around his toothbrush.

"Still wanna stick something in it? Come on, it'll be fun!" Sock let out a giggle, recalling how vaguely disgusted Jonathan had been the first time he'd implied such a thing. Perhaps if he pressed the matter, he'd get so ridiculously annoyed with the request that he'd just let himself wander into traffic.

Jonathan's face fell into his usual dead-eyed glare, the toothbrush pausing against his molars on the right side as he stared at Sock. "...No thanks," was the muffled response as he rolled his eyes and continued.

Sock's grin dropped, and he pouted. "Jonathan! There's nothing wrong with it! Seriously, don't be all stuck up. I mean it, when are you ever gonna get a chance like this again?" He outstretched his arms far to the sides in emphasis, not seeming to care that most of the gesture was hidden by the walls he was mostly inside of. "Seriously, Jonathan." And then he lifted up his shirt to show him again, determination in his eyes. "Do it. Stick something in the hole."

Jonathan's brushing slowed to a stop again as he stared at the glowing hole in the demon's torso. He grimaced around the toothbrush, reached up to rest his palm against Sock's chest, and then pushed him through the mirror until his hand met the glass and the demon, who had started loudly protesting at that, vanished into the wall.

He spat into the sink, and decided to ignore Sock for the rest of the morning.

  
  


-

  
  


"Are you... A-Are you sure about this...?" Jonathan asked apprehensively, a deep crease in his brow as he leaned over him a bit more.

"Completely." Sock's voice came out perhaps a bit too rushed, a bit too high pitched for Jonathan to fully believe him. "C-Come on, just do it. It's already here and ready and all nice 'n bloody for you, haha...!" There was no mistaking the nervousness in his tone, though it was a bit hard to believe that the demon would ever truly tell him to stop and mean it.

Jonathan swallowed weakly. No going back now, anyway.

  
  


-

  
  


"What would I even do with it?" Jonathan grimaced, staring at Sock as he laid on the cafeteria table in front of his lunch tray, resting his cheek in his hand as he propped his elbow against the table.

"The spooky hole?"

"What else?"

"Well, maybe you could just sorta poke around for a bit? I'unno, it's up to you, you're the one invading my insides." Sock grinned a bit too easily for such a morbid topic.

A skeptical look. "And what am I even supposed to use?"

Sock laughed, rolling onto his back and lifting his shirt again to peer down at the hole, as if contemplating it. "Hmm... Well, maybe a spoon? That way you could scrape stuff out, haha!"

Jonathan made a face, setting his sandwich down. He wasn't quite sure he could stomach it right now. "How about no," he replied flatly.

Sock raised his eyebrows, shrugging a bit. "A pencil? Whichever end you want, but it's your problem if you poke somethin' too hard and make it bleed all over everything."

Jonathan pinched the bridge of his nose before burying his eyes in his hand, sliding his hand up to push his fingers through his hair, tugging a bit. "That's disgusting."

"You could always use your hands," Sock offered, pulling his shirt back up to roll over again, shifting so that he could face Jonathan directly, his legs hanging off the other end of the table.

"Even more disgusting. Look, it sounds like a fun idea and all, but to be honest, it's sorta gross. I'm not really up for it." Jonathan sighed, exasperated as he turned his head to the side.

Sock paused for a moment, then grinned, lowering his eyelids just a bit to gaze at him with a dreamy, suggestive look in his eyes. "Well, I could definitely think of something else that you could put there, hot stuff..."

  
  


-

  
  


Jonathan wasn't quite sure how Sock had managed to talk him into this, nor how or why he had dared to agree. Honestly, it should have been the most revolting thing that could've ever come up in a conversation. It should have been so utterly repulsive that Jonathan should've picked up his tray and walked away from the table right then and there.

And yet, here he was now barely resting the weight of his thighs against Sock's sides, trembling the faintest bit himself as he stared down at him.

It was hard to look, it really was. The glowing green outline of the gory mess beneath him was frankly disgusting.

But that didn't change the fact that he was unbuttoning his pants with shaky hands, his gaze flickering here and there to avoid looking into Sock's wide eyes.

  
  


-

  
  


"Come on, hot stuff," Sock teased later, laughing and floating in front of the boy as he stepped into his home. "It doesn't sound that bad, does it?"

Jonathan's cheeks colored even more than they had in the lunch room, and he gave a groan and tried to duck away from the demon. "Leave me alone, Sock...!" He shouted, more glad than anything that his mom was still at work for the day. He started up the stairs, grumbling to himself as he tossed his backpack across his room and closed his door.

And then there were a pair of ghostly arms wrapping around his shoulders, and he could feel a breath that shouldn't have been there--in more ways than one--against his ear. " _Come on, Jonathan... It'd be so nice, don't you think?_ "

The teenager tensed up, his eyes widening and his breath catching in his throat. "Th-That's gross, seriously, quit it, I'd never do something like that."

A single fingertip traced a line down the zipper of his hoodie, and he shivered.

" _Come on, what's the harm?_ " And then Sock was pressing his palm down against him through his jeans, giving the lightest, most innocent little squeeze.

  
  


-

  
  


How long had Sock actually been a demon? Jonathan wondered to himself as he brushed his thumb just beneath the rim of the gaping hole. Was this something the kid would've done as a human? Or was it a side effect of his hellish condition?

Either way, as nervous as he was, Jonathan could nearly feel the excitement radiating off of him in waves. He was shaking, the teenager could see that, but the eagerness was plain to see in his eyes, and if Jonathan hadn't been pinning him down like this he'd probably be wiggling out of sheer energy quite a bit more than he was now. At least he was holding still, though. Otherwise, this might be a bit more difficult.

This, in question, happened to be the act of Jonathan tracing his fingertips down along his own erection, holding his breath as he barely squeezed the base. He wouldn't say that it was often that he touched himself, but he was familiar enough with the sensation.

The very tip brushed against the demon's stomach, but the contact quickly vanished as Sock's stomach contracted with a sharp inhale of surprise. His cheeks red, Jonathan slowly guided himself up a bit, until he could let himself rest the head against the rim of the wound. Somehow, it still looked fresh, despite how long he'd been dead. Though, now that Jonathan thought about it, he was sure that it made sense. After all, it wasn't as if this form of his was physical enough to rot.

He pushed his thumbs in first, just at the sides, to watch Sock's eyes go wider with excitement. There was something almost endearing about the way his hands, still clutching the edge of his shirt, moved up to cover his mouth.

Jonathan let his thumbs curl a bit, furrowing his brows at how easily the flesh gave, how strange the feeling of blood against his hands was, viscous and slippery. He found, to his surprise, that the glowing around the rim didn't have much substance or sensation to it. He didn't mind. One less thing to worry about what he was sticking his appendages into, he decided.

And then he was slowly, _slowly_ pushing his hips forward.

His lips parted, the breath not coming out as he slid inside.

It was wet. God, it was wet. And hot.

Sock gasped, and when his back arched from the sheer shock, Jonathan slid in even deeper, making him double over just a bit with a choked moan. His hands trembled, thumbs digging into the wound on either side of the wound and his shaking fingers laying flat against his stomach.

"O-Oh, g-god..." He breathed, squeezing his eyes shut. He'd never felt anything like this. He was sure that he'd never feel anything like it again, either. This couldn't be anything like regular sex, not with how Sock's insides shifted to accommodate the hard length pushing against them. They weren't stretching, no, they were moving, strange and wet and absolutely filthy.

His hips barely jerked out of sheer overwhelming pleasure, and there was a sickening squelching noise as he slid out again. It was obscene, the sounds were obscene and disgusting as he slowly started rocking his hips back and forth.

It felt different than Sock had thought it would, honestly. Actually, he hadn't been sure what to expect, even after he'd brought it up in the lunch room. It was hard and hot and heavy inside of him, but not quite as unforgiving and harsh as the knife had been. Aside from the strangeness of his organs being pushed at, the friction of his length against the glowing edge of the wound was brought to the front of his awareness, almost far too real. He quite quickly realized that this was, in fact, happening. It was no longer just a joke taken to rather uncomfortable levels, it was actually, happening, and Jonathan was inside of him. The weight of that fact hit him hard, and Sock whimpered, tilting his brows up and squeezing his shirt against his mouth until his knuckles were white and his face was bright red. " _O-Oh... Oh, oh, w-wow..._ " The demon choked out, his muscles barely tensing up and making his insides shift around Jonathan again. " _It's... Oh, god... Jonathan, you're inside me..._ "

Embarrassing. It was embarrassing. Shameful. And Jonathan gasped anyway, biting his lip hard and digging his thumbs a bit deeper into the sides of the wound, making Sock cry out in surprise. Jonathan's nails scraped against his insides, squeezing the fat there until it gave, nearly parted beneath his grip, making the wound bleed even more. It didn't hurt, but there was a dramatic sense of pure sensation wherever he touched. He could feel every inch of Jonathan pushing into him, rubbing against his organs with every agonizingly slow thrust.

Why were they doing this? How had they started this? Why was Jonathan letting himself do this? He didn't know anymore, he couldn't bear to reason with himself, to try and justify this. Impossible. How could anyone think, buried this deep in something so sinfully warm and wet...?

Figures, the demon.

God, this was so wrong.

But he couldn't stop, letting himself rock back and forth, swallowing hard and trying to keep his breathing steady as he shakily let himself slide into the stab wound again and again.

And Sock was delighted. Still trembling, whimpering and holding his shirt to his lips as tightly as he could, but so awfully delighted. He'd made the human give in to _one_ of his whims, and on top of that, possibly the most revolting thing he could possibly ever suggest. It couldn't possibly get worse than this, and yet, Sock felt like he was on top of the world, eyelids fluttering and weak gasps slipping through his shirt whenever Jonathan pushed in deep enough to hit anything that wouldn't quite give immediately and move out of the way.

It felt good. It felt so ridiculously good to Sock, to the point where he was having trouble suppressing his moans.

But for Jonathan, it was indescribable. He could barely stand it, groaning and biting his lip. He'd never been this hard in his life. One hand moved away from the wound to smear a bloody thumbprint against the headboard as he grasped at it to steady himself, starting to move just a bit faster. The noises were absolutely disgusting, wet and vulgar and far too loud compared to the breathless whimpers and strained moans echoing through the otherwise silent room.

Jonathan didn't want to look. He didn't want to see what it looked like, the thought of it nearly made him sick to his stomach.

But now that he was forcing himself not to look, it only made it harder to keep his eyes closed.

So he stole a glance, gazing down through half-lidded eyes, and the sight made his heart skip a beat.

God, it was awful. He watched himself slide into the gaping wound over and over, and there was blood. Blood, splattered against Sock's stomach, completely soaking the thumb still pushing inside of him, staining his cock and making it easy to slide against the glowing edge. It was terrible, disgusting. He felt like he was going to be sick. But he couldn't look away, entranced and horrified.

" _Oh, oh, Jonathan, it feels so good..._ " Sock whispered, his voice hushed and hurried, desperate as he drew his shoulders closer to himself, terribly tense.

Something sparked in his lower stomach, and he groaned, gritting his teeth and rolling his hips down hard, making the demon cry out. He couldn't help it, it was getting too good, too intoxicating.

Sock was becoming more and more breathless as Jonathan moved against him, and he realized that the teenager was starting to move faster, a bit more desperately. More erratic, more needy. He whined weakly, arching his back to let him in deeper.

Jonathan couldn't last much longer like this, not buried so deep in something so hot and dizzying, able to feel how every whimper and incoherent mumble the demon tried to give reverberated through his insides and against his cock. He gripped the headboard tighter, doubling over just a bit more and pushing his hips down harder, faster, nails digging into Sock's flesh without thinking.

Sock merely moaned, and a quiet desperate plea slipped past his lips, " _Y-Yes, please, please fuck me, just like that, p-please...!_ " He whined, trembling madly as he watched Jonathan's breathless gasping from behind the edge of his shirt.

And Jonathan did, moaning unabashedly now, panting and thrusting erratically. He was so close, so close...

Sock's eyes went wide and he stifled a cry louder than the rest as he felt the warmth flood into him, between his organs and seeping through his insides.

Jonathan gasped, sliding his hand along the headboard and leaning forward until he could bury his eyes in the crook of his arm, panting and trembling, still clutching at the edge of the wound.

The demon lay there beneath him still, overly aware of the weight of the foreign object inside of him. " _Wow..._ " He whispered, trying to catch his breath. He almost frowned when Jonathan slid his thumb out of him, whining weakly and clutching at his shirt.

" _W-Wow..._ " Jonathan repeated breathlessly, still hiding his face as he started pulling out. He didn't want to see the mess he left behind. It felt gross enough as it was. God, he needed a shower.

And then, Sock laughed.

Jonathan grimaced, face red. "What?"

Sock tugged his shirt up over his face completely, pulling his knees up and giggling loudly. "I can't believe it..."

"Believe what?" Jonathan already regretted asking.

"I can't believe you actually stuck your dick in the spooky hole...!"

Jonathan blanched.

"Shut the hell up, Sock."

 


End file.
